


Baking Day

by yesimcastielsgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean likes sex to Led Zepplin, Dean's Flavor of the Month, F/M, Older reader, Smut, all the sex, plus sized reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 16:03:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6086038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yesimcastielsgirl/pseuds/yesimcastielsgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the criminally late story for Dean's Flavor of the Month. I can only say my life has been pretty wrecked the last few months, and hope that the quality of the Dean + pie smut will make up for the lateness. I don't usually write to music, but Zep fueled this one start to finish.</p><p>Dean likes pie. You bake kick-ass pies and you love Led Zepplin. It's gotta be fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baking Day

     There were days when you doubted your own sanity. Days like this, when you wondered what sane person would bake two dozen pies in one day. In your own house! Not an industrial kitchen, noo, when you decided it was time to quit your job at the sheriff's department and concentrate on baking, you just went ahead and contracted to supply homemade pies to local restaurants right from your own kitchen.

 _Madness_. This was -baking- day but “My pies will use locally sourced ingredients. Only the freshest,” you had naively promised six months ago. _Stupid, stupid. I need a time machine to go back in time and kick my own ass,_ you grumbled internally as you fought your way through the thicket. At least blueberry bushes didn't have thorns. They did have birds foraging for the same berries you needed though. Hot and tired and more than done with birds screaming at your depriving them of the sweetest bluest berries, all you wanted to was to go home.

     You did not want to stumble onto a dead body hanging from an X made from landscaping timber.

 

**Later**

     The agents stood with the sheriff's deputies, frowning thoughtfully at the extremely deceased woman that had been found that morning by another local resident. “She's been on our missing person list for over a year, but she hasn't been here for a year,” the deputy insisted. “There are kids and moms in these blueberries all the time, someone would have found her before now. We're just lucky it was a former deputy who found the victim.”

     Agent DeYoung nodded, looking appropriately serious and not like he had been tweaking blueberries off the bushes and stuffing then into his mouth as they passed. He was tall and broad shouldered, short dirty blond hair carefully combed and styled, off the rack suit fitting a little too tightly. And attempting not to get blue juice all over his mouth. The even taller man, Agent Shaw, nudged his partner aside and stepped forward with a small notebook in hand. “Right, you said the witness' name was Y/N Y/LN? If you could give us her contact info, please. And do you have any idea why she was out in the middle of woods?”

     “She makes pies now,” the deputy replied as he went to his own notebook and paged through for your address and phone number. “Funny, she was a really good officer but so many people kept asking her to sell her pies that she went into business. She was out here picking berries for today. Baking day,” the man said, smiling and patting his stomach. Agent Shaw, the name Sam Winchester was currently using at his brother's insistence, couldn't help grinning as he shot a glance to that brother.

     Dean Winchester, currently known as Agent DeYoung, was staring into the distance with stars in his eyes. Really, his green eyes were wide and a little glassy, his tongue licking at his lower lip in absentminded adoration. Pie. _Homemade pie._ Cooked by a chick who knew how to use firearms. Dean knew it wasn't his birthday, he was an Aquarius not a Libra, but it was _some_ kind of holiday somewhere. Dean was halfway in love with the witness and all he knew was her name and that she baked pies. _Maybe she wore a gun belt while she baked._

  
     Sam hit his brother on the shoulder, hard. Dean's expression had shifted into one that normally preceded him walking out of the door with the evening's object of desire. Since there was no one here to be that object and Sam knew very well that his brother was lusting over baked goods, he needed to get them the hell out of here. “Thanks officer. My partner and I will be going now. We'll be in touch.”

 

 

     You didn't hear the doorbell over the sound of your MP3 player and your singing along to _[I'm No Angel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BEP_dPN3Haw)._ You were deep into crust-making mode, up to your elbows in flour, rolling out the dough with your favorite marble rolling pin. Your daughter heard it though and answered the door barely looking up from her phone. “Yeah?”

     “We're looking for Mrs. Y/LN. We need to talk to her about the body she found.” Miranda looked up at the deep voice then blinked in amazement. The two tall GORGEOUS guys at the door were holding up badges but pffft who cared? Without even thinking about it she snapped a picture of the very very tall brunette with the silky hair.

     “Uh, it's Ms., not Mrs. Yeah come on, mom's in the kitchen.” She turned and hurried towards the muffled sound of music from behind a swinging door. Dean mouthed _Mom?_ to Sam who just shrugged. They followed the teen back through the living room and Dean stopped in his tracks as the scent of warm blueberry pie flowed out through the now opened kitchen door. The song ended and as the Winchesters stepped into the warm, fragrant kitchen, the singer sang out with Robert Plant, note perfect, into the intro for [I Can't Quit You Baby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=29PSPafL54o).

 

**Dean**

     She had her back turned to the door, hair piled up but tendrils had escaped and curled down her neck. Dean noted a thin grey tshirt with _AC/DC touring dates!_ gathered over nicely tight blue jeans that bore flour hand prints on the butt. The singer/baker/police officer/woman of his dreams sang along with Zep, hips moving in slow roll to the beat. Holy shit, Batman. Dean groaned and shifted uncomfortably. Sam was actually blushing -- it was like watching his brother in a freakin' porno – and spoke up as the song ended, before the next could begin. “Ah, excuse me, Ms. Y/LN.”

    Over the opening of [_Hair of the Dog_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kyXz6eMCj2k) you yelped and spun around, eyes wide in alarm and heavy marble rolling pin in both hands. Your pink cherry-printed apron was covered with flour and traces of blue juice, and you had a little streak of blue across one cheek, but you held that rolling pin like you were about to start swinging from the back fence. ( _Red hot mama, velvet charmer ~)_ Dean though you might be older than him but that was based almost entirely on the fact your kid looked to be 16 or 17. He ran his gaze down your body, licking his lips absolutely by reflex. _Never trust a skinny cook and this chick had some really nice curves, he loved when he could grab onto a woman_ _and feel warm skin and flesh not just bones_ \--

     “Whoa whoa! We're with the FBI!” Sam raised his hands placatingly not wanting to risk that heavy thing anywhere near his head. “We have ID, we showed your daughter. I'm Agent Shaw and this is my partner, Agent DeYoung.” He reached slowly for his inside pocket to get his super legit fake credentials, kicking his brother and shaking Dean out of his trance. _(Now you're messin' with a son of a bitch~ )_

     “Are you kidding me? Shaw and DeYoung? Like Styx Shaw and DeYoung?” You reached over and shut off your MP3 player, still keeping a grip on your rolling pin. (If this had been an anime Dean's face would have those scrubby pink lines on his cheeks and total heart eyes.) You leaned forward, suspicious, to inspect what you thought had to be fake FBI badges.

     “Yeah the guys at the Bureau though it was hilarious to team us up with those names,” the slightly shorter agent said, finally speaking in a deep rumble. It sent a pleasant chill up your spine. “Gotta say I admire your taste in music.” Agent DeYoung extended his badge to you and you glanced from the portrait into green and gold eyes thickly lashed with the darkest blond. _Holy hand grenades_. Freckles and golden brown stubble and the most tempting mouth you had seen in.. well ever. You were saved from making a gibbering fool of yourself when your daughter banged back into the kitchen, backpack in hand. “Ma, my ride's here! I'll be back Sunday.” Miranda was swinging right back out without pausing but you raised a hand and pointed.

     “Hey! Just a minute missy.” Your mom voice and pointing Finger of the Law had her rolling her eyes but standing still. (The FBI agents looked both startled and impressed. The mom voice worked on most folks.) “You know what happened today. You and the other ladies stay where you're supposed to be. No unescorted trips anywhere, not even for pizza or soda. No changes in the plans, you hear me? You girls want to do something different I hear about it before any changes happen. Are we clear?”

     Your daughter sighed, such an aggrieved sound, and nodded with clear exasperation. “Yes Ma, I know. I have my phone and charger, Kim's mom or dad are going to drive us anywhere we go. We know to lock all the doors and windows and stay inside. God Ma, I'm 17 not seven.” You gave her a slight sneer and rolled your eyes back, mouthing some of the words with her. “Ugh I love you.” She huffed out with the door swinging behind her.

    “That's my girl. This is about the body in the woods?” You untied the pink apron and tossed it onto the counter. “I have a few minutes before I need to start shuffling pies out of the over. Have a seat. Want coffee?” You set about fixing cups for yourself Agent Hottie DeYoung since the other declined. You spent the next few minutes describing your trip into the woods, why you'd chosen that spot and that day (“That's where the blueberry bushes are, dude, it's not like there are tons of spots to choose from. Why today? It's baking day.”)

     You rose and went to the stove when the timer went off, grabbing hot pads and going about the work of sliding out bubbling hot berry pies and placing them on the counter. You were too focused on not burning yourself or, Lord save you, dropping the fragrant pastries on the floor to notice the urgent pantomime playing out between the brothers. Using barely hisses words and extreme facial expressions, Dean let Sam know that it was time for Sam to _get the hell out of Dodge NOW. Like now dude, I don't care what you do, go play in traffic but LEAVE._

     “Ah, I need to head over to the morgue. I'm meeting the sheriff there in a few minutes.” Sam stood, trying to look official and not offended that his brother was giving him a bum rush out of the way of a very attractive lady and fresh pie. “It was nice meeting you, Ms. Y/LN. Agent DeYoung? I'll meet up with you at the sheriff's office later. I can show myself out.” Agent Shaw had amazing dimples and some of the prettiest eyes you'd ever seen. You were more than a bit disappointed that he was leaving so soon but you figured out why quickly enough.

     “Thanks Sam. I'll just go over the information we have with Ms. Y/LN again, make sure we have everything right.” Dean cast a confident, almost too suave smile your way, charm oozing from every pore. “Maybe I can persuade the lady to let me have a slice of pie.” Your face was already flushed from the heat of the kitchen, but now heat filled you from head to toe from the man's words and the way his eyes wandered over your face, your lips, down to your throat and back up again, appreciation gleaming in the green and gold. _Did he send the other guy away? Oh my._

     “We can work that out I suppose. Agent DeYoung,” you shook your head.. you really had a hard time crediting the names. It was cute, but come on. “Don't tell me your first name is Dennis.”

     “Nope. It's Dean. But you gotta admit Dennis DeYoung is the man.” Dean reached over and took your hand in his, running his thumb over your soft skin. “I should tell you I'm not just interested in that amazing blueberry pie sitting right over there. I'm much more interested in you.” His voice had deepened and damn the man and his perfect mouth; his tongue tapped at the back of his teeth and swiped over that plump lower lip every time his hot gaze wandered over you.

     “Come on, be real. I've got to have ten years on you and how knows how much weight. I think you're just under my pie spell.” You tried to tug your hand away and let your light tone hide the pang of frustrations. Yeah, you thought he was absolutely gorgeous and it was increasingly difficult not to think about that that mouth and those hands could do to you. No point in not being realistic though, people as hot as this man didn't go for ladies carrying extra weight and extra years.

     “I think I know what I'm doing.” Dean stood and pulled you up effortlessly, his other arm coming to wrap around your waist and draw you to him. “I think you know too.” His smirk was pretty fucking cute and you saw only admiration and want in his eyes. _Well damn_. You slid your hands up the lapels of his suit, fingers curling tightly into the fabric as he lowered his face to yours.

     “I can't tell if you're trying to get into my jeans or my pies.” You breathed the words against his mouth and then grinned at his laugh. He was still smiling when his lips touched yours, light, testing, a brush of soft skin that created a tingling response. Your eyes drifted shut as Dean gently coaxed your lips open, nibbling then sucking at your lower lip, his tongue slipping into the heat of your mouth to tease and lick and linger.

     “Mmmm. Both.” Dean's voice was a low rumble that had your panties sticking to you already. “I'm pretty handy in the kitchen myself. I'd love to show you my moves.” You felt his grin against your throat as his mouth wandered, and laughed as hips did a very agile roll into the softness of your stomach; that was for sure not a handgun you could feel pressing hard against you through his trousers. “Bedroom?”

     _Welp this was happening_. “Back down the hall, door at the end of the hallway.” Dean turned and backed you down the hall, his hands and mouth busy all the while. Your apron dropped at the kitchen threshold, joined by his jacket. His shirt was untucked and you worked the buttons open while his warm broad hands slid under your tshirt, greedy for the touch of your skin. Both shirts hit the floor of your bedroom as Dean almost danced you inside, breaking off the hot twist of his tongue against yours to draw in a shaky breath. “You know, it's been a while – I have scars and stretch marks and mmmph.” Dean shut that line off by tracing his finger across your mouth the slipping it inside. While he worked the clasp of your bra you did indecent things to his digit, eyes darkening as he watched your lips sucking in that finger.

     “Don't worry. I have scars too, chicks dig them.” Dean slipped your bra off and let it fall to the floor then stopped at the edge of your bed, his hands smoothing over your shoulders as he let himself enjoy the sight. “Damn but you look amazing. Just want to bury my face in these.” His hand mapped the slope of your breasts, fingers lightly ticking your cleavage, then slid to cup your breasts in his hard hands, squeezing them with the appreciation of a connoisseur. Dean's hips nudged into you, encouraging you to fall back in the bed. He looked around the room: Clean but messy, with clothes tossed into a basket in the corner and over the desk chair, plenty of light coming through the window and its pretty pale curtains to let him see every inch of you. He reached for the CD player that waited on the nightstand next to him, his eyebrows raising in inquiry.

     “Yeah go ahead.” You were startled at how breathless you sounded, panting already, and while Dean turned on the player and hit play you were delighted to just look at him. He was so gorgeous, broad shoulders dusted with freckles, pecs that you would dream about for weeks. You were curious about the tattoo but that was gonna have to wait. You could see hard muscle all the way down his flanks and the abs hidden under a little layer of soft. “Really hope you're not going to change your mind, I'd have to say no pies for you ever if you did.” Your tone was light and teasing but this man was way more attractive than anyone else you had ever dated.. back when you dated, when dinosaurs roamed the earth.

     “Never happen.” Dean shot you a grin as _[I Can't Quit You Baby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=29PSPafL54o) _ started up again. “Oh yeah. I got this.” You watched with growing want as he rolled his hips to the heavy beat, stripping off his trousers in time to the music, little pause as he half turned to show off his tight ass in the black boxer-briefs that graced them. He prowled over to you, popped the button on your jeans, his eyes steady on yours the whole time, heated and so friggin sexy. You were licking your lips, biting the bottom one, not aware of the little _mmmmnnn_ that escaped you when he pulled off your jeans and your ruined panties. He heard it though and rumbled back, bent to mouth at you the top of your thighs. He slid his wrists under your knees, then on up to part your thighs and rest them against the bunch of those thick biceps.  _[You Shook Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vTdSCsP7gOE)_ filled the room. “Perfect.” His thumbs slicked up the seam of your tender folds and parted them, warm breath against your throbbing clit before his mouth was on you.

     “ _Ffffuck_ ,” was your intelligent reply as his plump lips worked you over, suckling at the hard nub them nipping it gently, making your hips thrust up helplessly. You couldn't get enough of looking at him, dirty blonde hair sticking up as you twisted your fingers in it, the hot green gaze as he met your eyes and rolled that sinful tongue into your wet entrance, fucking you with it lazily and yep still in time to the music. Your whole body was trembling, muscles taunt with gathering tension and “ fuck fuck that's soo good, Dean, goddammit,” your voice pitching higher as he pulled such a hard orgasm out of you that you actually did see little stars of light behind your eyelids as they closed, shaking in his grasp, grinding against his face. Who the hell cared about beard burn? Dean could take up residence in your crotch as far as you were concerned.  _[Dazed and Confused](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t1HaKfkMBmk) _ started and yep that was you. “Please, get up here.”

    “Yes ma'am,” was his cocky reply as Dean crawled over you, god that hard warm body felt amazing as he settled. You reached down and found he'd lost his constraining boxers, thick cock hot and so heavy in your hand. He hissed and his head tipped back, eyes closing as you stroked his length with hands strong and skillful from all that rolling dough. “Holy shit that is incredible. Your hand – ahhh fuck lemme grab a condom.” You were grinning at the way his arms shook, his hips thrust into your hand with the beat pulsing through the room. You let go of him, Dean groaned and his head dropped as his cock ground against your thigh as you pointed at the top drawer. “Thank Jesus,” reverent enough to be a prayer as he reached out and found the box on condoms in the drawer (wishful thinking condoms since none of them had been used). You watched him settled back on his knees, hands stroking down your legs before he opened the foil package and slipped the condom on himself, stroking down his cock with one strong hand and _hot damn that was the hottest thing you'd ever seen_ , _needed to see more of that._

     “C'mere, Agent DeYoung.” Your hands were on his shoulders, on the slope of hard muscle, down his arms and back to curl your fingers in the short hair at the nape of his neck. Dean's mouth found yours again, tongue licking against yours filthy and hot as one hand braced him up above your willing curves, the other guiding his cock to drag against the slick heat of your pussy. “Oh my god yessssss” as he pushed into you, pausing as the thickest part of his cock opened you up, his eyes closed in pleasure as he rocked back and forth just a little bit, a few centimeters of intensity as the strong muscles caught him and held him right at the edge of losing it and just coming fast and hard right then. Dean held there, shuddering against your breasts and the straining clutch of your thighs. Then he thrust forward, deep and hard, soaking up the sound that left your panting mouth with his own. Somewhere  _[When the Levee Breaks](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ddpl1zl5sYg) _ was playing, mixing with your whimpers as you shifted around the thick jut of Dean, hands dragging your nails down his shoulder as you tried to press him even closer.

     “Oh fuck yes, sweetheart, goddamn you feel so good, so tight, holy shit.” That was spluttered out as one word as Dean rocked into you, slid out, rocked in, that fit body of his working smooth and sultry against your scorching skin. His hands moved to cup your face, fingertips rasping over your cheekbones, catching the sweat at your temples, tangling in your hair as his mouth hovered against yours, breath exchanged between yours as he fucked you long and slow, so strong, so steady, and your body arched into his, your cunt flexing and gripping against him stroke for stroke, legs slipping against his then shifting to tilt your hips to another angle. Dean shouted and moved faster with that change, just as[ _How Many More Times_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MpJDOXxuSLo) started, god that boy was noisy and you loved it, ever little cry and pant and grunt with his eyes screwed shut and his lips dragging against yours. You slipped over into another climax, stronger than the last, clutching at Dean for dear life and the strong pulses and pulls of your pussy tightening around him sent him over the edge as well, three hard drives into the silky grip and he was gone, both of you just pulling against each other, trying to drag out the sharp pleasure flowing back and forth between you, all taunt muscle and sweat-glossed skin and tangled limbs.

 _[Bring It on Home](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J2qHbEriQ6A)_ was timely as you and Dean gradually relaxed, going loose against each other still entwined with hands gentling over heated skin, the kisses now tender and thankful, love bites left along with the bruises you were super fucking happy to have earned. He eased out of you, both of you moaning a little as sensitized bits dragged in a parting caress, tended to the condom then rolled you back and just wrapped you up in his warm arms. You gave exactly zero fucks about the sweat and mess, savoring the feel of his Dean against you, your heart slowing to normal as his did the same. Except...

     “Oh shit. The pies.” You sat bolt upright, widened eyes meeting his and he looked absolutely horror stricken at the thought of something happening to sacred pies. “I still have over a dozen pies to make today! Shit shit and I don't want to get up, I want to stay here with you and do that all over again but shit.”

     “The pies,” he agreed in a very Serious Bsness voice. “I meant what I said, I'm good in the kitchen. Let's grab a shower and then I'll help. Hey maybe there will be enough to take with me on the road.” Dean's pretty face was lit up like a kid facing the biggest Christmas tree ever. You laughed and leaned over to kiss him again, Dean meeting you eagerly and drawing out what you had meant to just be a quick little buss into a slow melting thing. “And it's Winchester, Dean Winchester.”

     “All right then, Dean Winchester. If you're as good in the kitchen as you are in this bedroom, then you better start making baking day one of your regular stops.” The flash of his grin as he leaned over you again was definitely agreement with that idea.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Supernatural or its characters.


End file.
